Troy
by Juliet
Summary: Alexander Troy has lost his wife Helen in a car crash a couple years ago... email me and I'll give u the fuller version...


Troy  
  
Every morning it's the same thing. I get up, get dressed, and go to work, come home and go to sleep. Nothing has ever changed. Everything has always been the same. The same tired gray colored walls of my office have never changed. I often sit in my cubicle staring at the computer screen with my paper cup of coffee from Starbucks wondering what I'm doing here. I wonder how one's life can just continue like this without any sort of change. I stare at a photograph framed in a brown wooden picture frame. How I miss her. Her warm smile, her comforting voice, and her sweet smell. Why did it happen to me? Why?  
  
The phone rings. I stare at the caller display number and sigh when I fail to recognize the number. Who the hell is it now? I pick up the phone.  
"Hello? Alexander Troy speaking," I answer.  
"Hello, Alexander," it's a man's voice.  
"May I ask who's calling?"  
"No. But I know something about you. I know the answers to all your questions too."  
"Who are you? What do you want?"  
"It's not what I want, it what you want to know. I know what happened to Helen and I know how you can get her back. I know how you wonder why your life never changes. I know how to change it."  
"How?? Hello?" Whoever it was had hung up and had left me confused and distraught.  
At lunch, I opened my brief case and pulled out a plastic bag. This morning I had packed a peanut butter sandwich, a banana, and a small thermos of tea. Way to raise my caffeine level. I bit into my peanut butter sandwich. It was crunchy peanut butter. I had the same sandwich yesterday too. I took a sip of tea and stared at the banana. I hate this fucking life. I don't know how someone else can change my life. But even so, how would I contact them again?  
"Hello, are you Alexander Troy?" A man with a red cap, glasses and a package asked me.  
"Oh, yes. Yes I am. Is that a package for me?"  
"Yes. Please sign here for it," he handed me a clipboard with a sheet on it. I signed in the blank space at the bottom.  
"Thanks," I said as he left.  
I turned the package over in my hands and looked for a return address of some sort. I couldn't find any. I opened the package and found a CD. The cover was white except for some printed text on the top right corner. Alexander Troy. I looked around the giant office full of other cubicles and I hid the CD in my briefcase. Why would anyone care about a CD I had received? I'm so stupid. It's no big deal.  
At five, everyone around me started packing up. As I shut down my computer I thought to myself about today...  
  
Well Alex... You asked for a change and you got it.  
  
  
  
I got in my car and drove home. I lived in a small condo near Lake Ontario. I drove to the underground parking and parked my car in its usual space. I reached the elevator and just as the doors were shutting, someone grabbed the elevator door and pulled it open. I stood there and stared as a blond woman in a red dress stepped into the elevator.  
"Sorry," she said as she pushed the number of her floor.  
We both stood in silence as the elevator started its ascent. I looked at the floor, I looked at the ceiling and I looked at the numbers slowly lighting up one after another on the panel. I looked at anything but her. Suddenly she turned to me and spoke.  
"I know something's troubling you. I know how to solve it."  
"What do you mean?" I was beginning to get nervous.  
"You know what I mean. You feel as if you've been deserted somewhere solitary, but you're not. The thing is, you're not far from the truth."  
"How do you know what I'm thinking? Why have all these strange things been happening to me lately?"  
"It's like you said earlier, Alex. You asked for a change, and soon it'll come to you."  
The ding of the elevator reaching its destination startled me and brought me back to reality. The woman walked out of the elevator and when she was outside, she turned back to me.  
"Remember, Alex. The choice is yours. Whether we are the enemy or not is for you to decide."  
As the elevator's doors shut I thought to myself. What the hell was that? I wonder what she meant by that. The elevator stopped once again, this time at my floor. The doors slid open and I stepped out. I looked down the hall at my door. I paused, and then began walking to my door. I turned the key and pulled it out. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Looking around the living room, I saw Argos. He was our-Helen's cat. Argos sprinted over to greet me by walking through and around my ankles. I bent down to pet his orange and brown fur when he ran down the small and narrow hallway leading into my bedroom. I sighed and walked over to the light brown suede couch that Helen and I had bought after our marriage.  
I picked up the remote and turned on the TV. After a few minutes of channel surfing, I turned off the TV. I kicked off my shoes, lifted my legs onto the couch and propped up my head on some pillows. Ever since Helen's death, I hated sleeping in the bedroom. Why did it have to happen to me was all I could think back then. Nowadays I just missed her company.  
  
  
So this is what they call coping.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
